Unlikely Love
by bangarang413
Summary: Meenah and Aranea find comfort and affection where they least expect it-each other. Humanstuck!AU. I wrote this for a health project (the assignment was to write a story focusing on an LGBT couple.)


Charlotte Collins

Health

Period 2

Aranea blinked as the late afternoon sun cut through the window and her red-framed eyeglasses to attack her sensitive pupils. It was four o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, December 13th. Aranea Serket had just come from one of her favorite after-school clubs, the Science Olympiad. She was a slightly heavy-set girl with narrow shoulders and wide hips, and platinum blonde hair that fell to her shoulders. She was wearing her favorite simple, dark blue dress and a brown leather belt that encircled her chest right below her breasts.

The hallways were nearly deserted; most of the students had either gone home or were out in the courtyard of the school, waiting for their parents to pick them up. In the silence, the walls seemed to vibrate with the bouncing echoes of Aranea's footsteps. Just as she was about to turn a corner, however, the sound changed. The sound of her walking was joined by the sounds of several other pairs of feet, running. She kept her head down and continued to move, unworried, until instead of running by her, one of the owners of the feet shoved her into a wall with all of the momentum of his movement.

Aranea screamed slightly in surprise, dropping her books as she slammed face-first into the cheap whitewashed plaster. "What the hell?" she gasped, turning to face her attackers. There were two of them, and she thought she recognized them as freshmen boys. Although she herself was a junior, they were far bigger than she was and could easily hurt her, especially given the fact that they were closed in on her against the wall.

"You're Aranea Serket, right? Vriska's older sister?" spat one of the boys, aggressively.

_Oh, god_.

"Yes," she said, evenly. "That's me. Is there a particular reason you are taking this issue up with me as opposed to her?"

"She won't listen to us no more," said the other of them. "Tell 'er she needs to pay us up and pay us good and pay us soon, you hear?"

This was ridiculous. Aranea would not be pushed around by freshmen boys. "If you have something to get through to Vriska, I would ask you to tell it to her directly and not assault upperclassmen in the hallways in order to get your silly message passed along. Now if you'll excuse me, I have places to be." She attempted to push through them, but one of them grabbed both of her shoulders and pressed her up against the wall, roughly. She hit the back of her head, hard, and a shower of stars exploded across her field of vision.

"You ain't leavin' until you promise us our money, you little bitch," he said, his voice low. The other one stood behind him, seeming to provide support in the event that she proved stronger than she looked.

"Let me go," she said, her voice rising a pitch in desperation as she struggled against his grip. He opened his mouth, and Aranea thought he was going to say something, but instead he spat in her face. She squealed and squeezed her eyes shut, looking away. She was just bracing herself for something worse when suddenly the pressure was alleviated.

"Hey, what you doing bothering this chick here?" said a voice. Aranea gingerly opened her eyes, wiping the saliva out of her face with disgust on the sleeve of her dress, to see a girl significantly shorter than both the boys, standing with her feet planted aggressively wide in front of them. She was a little taller than Aranea, with dark, creamy skin. Her hair was cut into a Mohawk, but at the base of her neck she had two extremely long braids. They were so long that they rested on the ground, and Aranea couldn't tell whether they were extensions or if they were real. She had several golden rings pierced into her face: one on her lip, one on each eyebrow, and several in both of her ears.

"I said, what you doin' bothering this chick?" she said, her voice escalating to a shout. When they didn't respond, she took a step forward and shoved the bigger of them, hard, in the chest. He stumbled a few steps backwards.

"Nothing," the other one managed, casting his eyes to the ground.

"You're damn right it's nothing, boy. Now go on, get outta here."

The two boys cast Aranea dirty looks before walking reluctantly down the hallway and around the corner. Aranea watched them go, relieved, before turning to look at the other girl. "Thank—" she stopped short. Where had the girl gone? Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of one of her long braids sweeping around the corner at the end of the hallway. "Hey!" Aranea shouted, chasing after her. "Hey, wait!" She rounded the corner to find the dark skinned girl waiting for her, a look of complete indifference on her face.

"Yeah?"

"Um, I just wanted to say thank you."

A shrug. "No problem."

Aranea was taken aback, slightly. "What's your name?" she asked, for lack of another topic to pursue.

"Peixes. Meenah Peixes," she said. Aranea looked her up and down. She was wearing a pair of baggy cargo pants which rode low to reveal the top of her underwear, a style popular with many boys in their school. Her t-shirt, too, was baggy, but cut off just above her belly button.

"Well, Meenah, is there anything I can to do, I don't know, recompense you for this? I mean, if there's anything you need help with in school, I often tutor people in the libraries after clubs, or I can—"

"And what in the name a God makes you think I need tutorin'?" asked Meenah, her tone turning angry. Aranea blushed heavily and looked away, clutching her binder to her chest. How rude of her to assume.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. That's the only thing I can do for a person, though, I'm basically useless otherwise." She turned away, beginning to go back down the hallway where she had come from, ashamed. "Thank you again, I'll just be—"

"Ey, Serket." Aranea stopped and looked over her shoulder. Meenah was looking at the ground, awkwardly twisting her toe into the floor. "I'm failin' math, anyways, so I guess a little tutorin' wouldn't hurt nobody."

Aranea sagged a little in relief. "Great!" she said, with a smile. "What math are you in?"

"Pre-calc," Meenah replied, in a mutter.

"Great, I've tutored others in that before. Are Thursdays after school okay?"

"Yeah."

"Wonderful, I'll see you then."

The following Thursday, Aranea sat at one of the tables in the library, drumming her fingers impatiently on the table. Meenah was fifteen minutes late. When she finally arrived, Aranea resolved to do her best not to let her annoyance show.

"You're late."

Well, that didn't work out.

Meenah tossed one of her long braids over her shoulder and gazed at Aranea with an expression of defiance.

"Hey, listen here, I only agreed to this 'cause I thought you wouldn't be like them teachers. If I'm wrong, I won't stick around, got it?"

Aranea nodded. For some reason, she wanted to tutor this girl, outside of feeling as if she owed her a debt. She organized her papers as Meenah pulled out the chair next to her and settled in.

"All right, what are you working on, then?"

"Dunno, something with parabolas, I think…"

Meenah Peixes was a difficult student, but not the most difficult that Aranea had ever dealt with. Her only problem was that she resisted learning, not that she was incapable of doing so.

"That went well," Aranea said, approvingly, at the end of their session.

"Yeah, guess so," said Meenah, then turned and left the library without another word. Aranea smiled after her as she went.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aranea continued to tutor Meenah in her pre-calculus class. It was not always easy: occasionally they would have small disputes. Sometimes Meenah was late, but she always showed up, and Aranea refrained from questioning her as to why. By the second week, Meenah was less cold to her, and seemed less embarrassed to offer interest in what Aranea was teaching her.

"Wait, so, you're sayin' that the x here equals 7?" she would say, leaning forward earnestly. It pleased Aranea that she was able to get her pupil more involved in her studies. She began to like Meenah, outside of simply being grateful for what she had done to save her from the aggressive freshmen.

They began to walk home together, and have discussions outside of mathematics. At first it was simple small talk, but then it became deeper. Meenah told Aranea about her family: her father had left she and her mother and her sister (a girl named Feferi, a freshman like Vriska) when she was seven years old. She wasn't overly upset about it, however. She found enough support in her mother and extended family, including her cousins and grandmother. Aranea, in turn, confided in her. Mr. and Mrs. Serket were still married, but their relationship was tenuous and best and violent at worst. The two had been forced into a marriage by their families, and were still pressured to stay in it, even though their obvious hatred of each other had grown over the years. Her mother had taken to taking frequent vacations to their multiple other homes, frequented by no one by herself, and drinking heavily when she was at home.

"Vriska's taken it differently then me," she said, looking at the ground. She could tell Meenah was listening intently. "She's rebelled, gotten into drugs and all of that. I think that's what those boys were after."

"Well tell her that's a bunch'a crap and smack her upside the head," said Meenah, matter-of-factly. For some reason, the tone that was used and the delivery of the phrase made Aranea throw her head back and laugh, so hard that she had to stop walking, and when she resumed doing so, had to lean on Meenah's shoulder. She smelled nice, like pine needles and soap.

"Yeah, yeah, Serket, I get it, I'm a comedic genius, you can stop your honkin' now," she said, but she was laughing herself. Aranea didn't remove her arm from the taller girl's shoulders until they reached her house, and she waved good-bye at the steps.

On Thursday, January 21st, Meenah Peixes got a 98% on her pre-calculus final. She sailed into the library, whooping and cheering and waving it in Aranea's face. "See this, Serket?" she crowed. "This is all your fault, all of it!" The two of them were laughing and talking so loudly that the librarian approached to admonish them.

"I would expect better of you, Miss Serket," she said, sternly. Aranea said something that might have been interpreted as an apology before turning back to Meenah.

"We should celebrate," she said, breathlessly. "No tutoring today. Let's go get some ice cream, or something!"

"Or somethin'," repeated Meenah, grinning. "I know something better. Come on." She took Aranea's hand and led her out of the school and down a couple of blocks, past the buildings to the outskirts of town and into the woods.

"Where are we going?" Aranea giggled.

"You'll see."

Eventually they came to a river, wide and slow moving, which was dark enough to be about five feet deep or so. Aranea laughed a little in confusion. "Meenah, it's January. Surely we're not going swimming?"

"Nah," said Meenah, her grin widening. "Just wanted to be alone."

"What do you—" before she could finish, Meenah was on her, pressing their lips together firmly, with the determination of someone who would not be denied. Aranea's mind froze; she had no idea what to do. Did she like this? Should she like this? Yes, she liked it, but she didn't know if she should or if she should melt into it or if she should resist or ask Meenah what she was doing. In her confusion, she stepped back slightly, out of Meenah's grasp. The other girl looked at her with confusion.

"Aranea…?" she asked. Her voice was small and vulnerable, as were her eyes. It was one of the first time Meenah had referred to her as such, and not as Serket. Aranea opened her mouth, and then closed it, and then opened it again, but no sounds came out. She had so many things which she wanted to say, but somehow, she had lost all capability of speaking. In a complete panic, she turned and ran away, up the hill.

"Aranea!" yelled Meenah, her voice more desperate this time. Aranea didn't turn around, and hated herself for it, more and more with each step that she took. When she got home, she ran up the stairs to her room and slammed the door shut. Leaning on the wall, she sank to the ground and sobbed for an hour and half, because she had disappointed Meenah and she had disappointed herself and she had no idea what to do.

The next day at school, Aranea was waiting for Meenah at her locker. She had a prepared speech in her head, going somewhere along the lines of she had made a huge mistake, she should never have run away, and she hoped that they could continue to hang out while Aranea thought a few things over. But when Meenah rounded the corner and saw her, she stopped short, threw Aranea a dirty look in response to her hopeful smile, and stalked away.

For the next few days, Meenah pointedly avoided Aranea. She became more and more desperate, texting and calling Meenah repeatedly (with no responses) and going where she expected Meenah to be whenever possible. Now that she had been removed from spending all of her time with Meenah, she realized how much she had enjoyed it, and how much she missed it now that it was gone. She cried almost nightly, because she loved Meenah—she really did. And she thought that Meenah had loved her, but she had made a stupid mistake and probably ruined that forever.

On Saturday, January 31st, ten days after Meenah kissed her and she panicked, Aranea made the remarkable mistake of going to her father for advice. She would have gone to her mother, but she had been at their home in the Carribean for the past three months.

"Dad?" she asked, softly, knocking on the door of his room.

"What?!" he yelled back at her, his voice rough and pitchy. Oh, God, he was drunk.

"Can I come in?" she asked, because there was no backing out now.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Vriska," he said.

"Aranea," she said, quietly, as she opened the door and stepped inside.

"An' wha'do you want?" he asked, his words slurred. Her heart began to beat faster. She should have known this was a bad idea. But she couldn't just turn around and leave, the situation would probably ultimately be worse, then. Swallowing heavily, she began.

"Dad, I've got a question. There's this girl at my school, and—"

"She been bothering you?" he asked, cutting her off, before taking another swig out of the bottle he was holding.

"No, Daddy, I think that I actually kind of like her. And I was wondering if you would be okay with—"

"_Like _her?" he asked, looking at her with frightening attention and intensity. "And what'a ya mean by that?"

"As in," she said, her voice dropping to a little murmur, "girlfriend, type of thing?"

_"Speak up, girl!"_

"Like girlfriend love, dad!" she screamed. She was screwed anyways, she might as well go all in.

"Girlfriend?" he roared back at her, sitting up. "_Girlfriend?! _No daughter of mine is a god damn dyke, Aranea Serket!"

"Yeah? Well, that's too bad for you, isn't it, dad?" she yelled back at him. The backs of her eyes were beginning to prickle slightly with tears. "Because it's my life, and you can't change who the hell I am!"

"Oh yes, I can!" he snapped back at her, beginning to stand up. He seemed to be having trouble, and in that moment, in spite of her burning hatred, she almost pitied him.

"Look at you," she said, contemptuously. "You can't even stand up to properly chew me out! You're the worst father in the world. You don't even care that Vriska's strung out on pot ever god damn day of her life, but suddenly when something like this happens to me, it's a huge deal?"

"You little bitch!" he bellowed at her. "How dare you talk to your father that way?" He drew his arm back and hurled his heavy bottle—some sort of spirit bottle, she thought it was—at her head. She screamed and ducked away instinctively, but it was far off from her head anyways, and smashed against the wall, shattering and dropping glass everywhere. Tears streaming down her face, Aranea turned to run out of the room, but slipped and fell on the liquor spreading around the floor. She cut her hands and upper arms and chest on the glass, but immediately struggled to get back up. Before she could do so, however, her father pulled her up and threw her against the wall in the hallway.

"Say you ain't a dyke, Aranea Serket," he growled at her. She was silent, and he slapped her across the face. "Say it!"

"Fine! I'm not a fricking lesbian!" she screamed into his face, spit and blood flying out of her mouth. He didn't even smile at her, just stared at her bleeding figure for a moment before turning and stumbling back into his room, slamming the door behind her.

Sobbing, Aranea pounded down the stairs and out into the night, the cold biting at her bare and bleeding skin.

Light poured across Meenah's porch as the door swung open. "Serket, I though I told you to—oh my god." Her cold tone was immediately dropped, replaced with one of concern at the sight of her bleeding arms and legs and the growing welt on her cheek. "What happened to you?" she asked, taking her arm and leading her inside. At this point, Aranea was crying so hard, her words were barely intelligible, but she spoke them anyways.

"Look, I don't know, okay? I was just so lonely and I thought hey, why not try and talk to my dad? Haha, why not just come out to him, too? Oh, wow, thanks for throwing a god damn bottle at my head! Thanks a lot for that, Dad!"

"C…Come out to him?" Meenah asked, looking down at Aranea with what she thought was barely restrained hope.

"Yes!" she screamed, throwing herself into Meenah's arms, and sobbing into her ear. "And he threw a god damn bottle at my head and said that no daughter of his was a dyke!"

"Oh, god," said Meenah, enclosing Aranea in her arms. "Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. That ain't right. It's okay, I've got you. You're going to be okay now, hear? You're alright now."

Aranea continued to cry into Meenah's shoulder, but it wasn't because of her father anymore. It was because it felt so good to be held, to be loved. She cried and cried until she was all cried out.

"Aranea?"

"Mmmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."


End file.
